


The Creation of Sjae

by Lamii



Category: Furry (Fandom)
Genre: Blood Magic, Crying, Emotional, Furry, Gen, Happy Ending, Magic, Magical Trauma, Original Character(s), Pain, Rituals, Soul Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-24 02:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18160346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamii/pseuds/Lamii
Summary: Lamii, with a taste for forbidden magic, crafts a spell to control her shadow, but it doesn't go as planned.





	The Creation of Sjae

**Author's Note:**

> The name Sjae originates from the Danish word Sjæl(Sjael), meaning Soul.

Giddy!

Giddy was the best description of the emotion Lamii felt, as she hurried down the spiraling staircase.  
It had been weeks of studying, away from prying eyes.  
The mood she was in wasn’t usually one associated with the ideas swarming in her head, however to Lamii, well she didn’t care, she was excited.  
Step after hundredth step, Lamii descended into the darkness below the castle, but the bunny felt no exhaustion as she practically sprinted down the stairs.  
The staircase in question was one of those ancient hidden corridors you always hear about in fiction. Well, this castle had those, for reasons long since forgotten.  
At least they weren’t going unused. As princess of the Wonderland Kingdom, Lamii rarely ever had any responsibilities to see to, given her older brother’s position as crown prince.  
This meant that she usually spent time on her own, either in her room, in the library, or well, as now, heading down to her own secret corner of the castle that no one else knew of.

It felt like an eternity. An eternity where Lamii was going over every detail of what was to happen. Over and over in her head she mentally checkmarked every miniscule calculation and preparation that she had meticulously prepared over the past weeks.  
A book was under her arm, one she had been guarding with her life for as long as she’d been obsessed with this particular spell.  
A book no one else knew existed, except perhaps the head librarian.  
The book, well, it was as ominous as you can imagine. It resembled the literary lovechild of a Lovecraftian Necronomicon and ritual tome from a Witch Coven. Probably because that was pretty much what it was, moreso the latter, of course.

Finally, the bottom of the stairs. Practically vibrating with glee, Lamii flicked her wrist with a mumbled activation word. Torches lining the walls of the spacious room all burst to life with an echoing whoosh. The room itself almost reflected the appearance of the book. It was a torchlit, gloomy and dungeonesque room full of tables with varying degrees of magical relics. Crystals, alchemist's supplies, and an almost absurd quantity of different books.  
The atmosphere didn’t quite match the magenta dress clothes she was wearing from the social gathering earlier that evening.

Lamii studied everything magical, to varying degrees of interest, and one of her biggest interests was perhaps also the one most shunned. Witchcraft, Black Magic, the Unholy, it had many names. The essence of it all was that it messed with things most people saw as unethical to mess with, but that was exactly why it was the most intriguing subject to a curious bunny princess. It wasn’t an interest out of malcontent, melancholy or maleficence. It was curiousity for the sake of curiousity, a bunny that simply wanted to learn anything she could, about everything magical.  
Her brother was already a prodigy. He didn’t have any attunement of the arcane, but the elements bent to his will as if they recognised his royalty.  
Lamii, was the opposite. The elements wouldn’t even make a breeze for her, however everything innately arcane, pure magical energy, was something that had come natural to her since childhood, and she felt superior for it.  
It was all about the laws of the universe, manipulating friction gave heat and fire, so who needed to be able to control fire directly, when you could just cheat the system. At least, that was her opinion of her own abilities.

The arcane was a magical power that one harnessed from their own spiritual energy. The elements came from the power all around you. They were innately opposed.

This was also the trick to everything Lamii had worked on for the past month. It was magic from your own self, which Lamii had concluded to mean that it originated from your soul.  
That’s what all this was about. Soul magic. Something forbidden by culture and law. One was not to mess with the structures and laws of the living or the dead. Lamii, as usual, didn’t give a fuck what others thought.

“It’s not like I’m subjecting anyone but myself to all of this”  
She argued out loud to herself. Mostly to break the resounding silence of the stone walls around her. It was the truth, too, she would never do any of these experiments on the unwilling. Consent was key, since she wasn’t too keen on the idea of magically molesting someone against their will.

After a quick trip around the perimeter of the chamber, she placed the book on a podium. It was dead center, and surrounded by white circles carefully carved into the stone floor. As mentioned, preparation had taken an inordinate amount of time for a ritual of such a short duration.

Next to the podium was a small table with prepared supplies. The ritual itself wasn’t complicated as much as it was simply frightening.  
The table contained a small bowl of carved stone, with symbols matching those on the floor. On the table was also a knife, a glass pen and a roll of bandages.  
That’s the thing about witchcraft. It’s rarely complicated. It is however pricey. In one way or another.

Hopping excitedly on the spot, Lamii opened the forbidden manuscript and turned to the same two pages she had read a thousand times over. They were about two thirds of the way through the book. They were also burned into her retina to the point where she would see the pages when she closed her eyes.  
She double and triple checked that she had every element in place, however few there actually was. The difficulty came down to execution. The exact amounts of everything, the right timings and most importantly, the right mindset.

“Stop stalling!” The bunny snarled at herself. A quick look over the pages, and she promptly moved the podium back, just a few feet, to move the supply table in between the herself and the book, so that the bowl on top of it was dead center of her incantation circles.

A long, shuddering exhale, as Lamii reached for the knife. Being left handed, the victim this day, was her right. The blade was sharp, but only just sharp enough to leave a shallow cut. Her right hand folded around the steel, and the left dragged the knife downward in a swift motion. The blade came out completely clean.

It stung, terribly so, but Lamii was not unaccustomed to the pain. The same spot had been used quite a few times before, for other experiments. Putting the knife aside, she tightened her right hand, so strongly that it trembled, as blood began to drip from her folded fist and into the stone bowl. The size of the circles inside were carefully measured, so the bunny kept on letting it drip till a pool had formed, and even then, she let it fill, until the last drop made the crimson liquid cover every inscribed line in the bowl.  
Knowing how precise this spell had to be, she didn’t let a single drop of her blood spill thereafter, carefully cleaning her hand off, and bandaging it.

The main component was ready. Now came the tricky part. The blood was warm and fresh, and hence still tied to Lamii. It still held a connection to her soul.  
Her eyes twitched, flicking to the pages of the book. It was more habit and anxiety than anything else, since she bet she could copy every word and drawing on the pages by memory, given the tools and time.  
She was nervous, but her smile was so wide that her cheeks hurt, which in turn made her laugh quietly.  
Another long exhale, as she focused herself on the task. She closed her eyes and focused on that thread. The thread of power that she felt reaching from her chest and to the missing lifeforce of herself, offered for the spell.  
First, she mentally gripped it, to ensure that the bond was still strong. Next, she reached down. This was the part of the spell she was most unsure about, the only part she’d been unable to practise before.  
Further down, until her mind was in a vast black space of nothingness. In here, she had to find her core. Her lifeforce. Her soul. This part specifically, she had practiced, quite a few times as part of what others assumed was daily meditation.

It was this next part that had her terrified.

Once she found herself, within herself. A bright white, flickering flame of life hanging in the nothingness, she knew she had to take the final step.  
She was still mentally clinging to the arcane thread that connected herself to the bowl of blood on the table. She had brought that connection all the way here for a very specific purpose.  
Even though she had no physical form in this place within herself, she still pretended to close her eyes as she reached out. Her thoughts directed her energies inwards, the arcane strings of blues and purples enveloped her flame of self.  
It took but a second, and the energies retracted. Swirling around like a small cage, inside of which was a similar flame to the one that was her soul, yet, much smaller. Even though she had seen everything, she still pretended to open her nonexisting metaphysical eyes.  
The first step was done. She had separated part of her own soul, a tiny part of it.

Now, as it was newly split and malleable, she willed the energies to bring it closer. The thread she held was given to the flame, and the flame fed on it. The white fire crawled along the connection. It ate it up, following its directions out of her body, and into the bowl of blood.

This time, the eyes she opened were her real eyes. Lamii gasped for air, not having realized she had been holding her breath. Clutching her chest, she attempted to feel whether anything was amiss inside of her. She felt no change. This made her smile, a lot.  
Her eyes found the bowl in front of her, exactly center of the table, and exactly center of the circles she stood within. Inside of the blood, a tiny white speck was glowing. The blood was as transparent as any other blood, which is to say, not at all, however the white dot of her parted soul fragment shone through the red as if it was water. This again, made her smile.

Everything she needed to prepare was now complete. All that was left was the arguably least ethical part of this entire ritual. A flick of her wrist, and every torch in the room went out, except one at the far end of the room, in the direction she was facing. She focused, and the flame grew brighter, but very, very still.  
Next, she picked up the glass pen on the table. She dipped the handle into the blood, and swirled it around. Three times clockwise in an inwards spiral. Then three times counterclockwise in the same inwards spiral. The entire pool of blood was now radiating white, as if the soul had been diluted into the liquid. Lamii removed the pen handle from the blood, and promptly used her mouth to clean the remnants off. “It’s my soul... can’t let any go to waste” she mumbled to remind herself, as she licked her lips.

The pen was returned to the table, to lie besides the knife. The bowl was then picked up, and carefully, ever so carefully, Lamii turned around so her back was to the source of light. Below her, she saw a sharp outline of her own shadow, cast long and clear unto the stone floor.  
A third exhale of deep concentration. She tilted the bowl with both hands, inwards towards herself, and let the bowl empty unto the floor, unto the shadow cast beneath her.  
Initially, the splatter of blood did nothing, not until Lamii started to clearly recite an incantation from the book. Originally, it had been a necromantic incantation. One to bind a soul to a corpse, or trap a soul in a crystal of a sort. This time, it was used to bind the soul to something quite different.

As the words were spoken, the blood started to disappear. At first it looked as if it was seeping through the stone, however, in reality, the blood was used as a vessel, to let the soul fragment fuse with her shadow.

A lot of witches magic had to do with control of one’s own shadow. It was a firm belief in many covens that your shadow was the silhouette of your true self.  
This had been the premise of this experiment. Lamii had already learned many methods to control her shadow. From forming it into different shapes, to solidifying it for practical purposes. This spell was slightly different. If everything went right, Lamii would create a small tether of energy, allowing her to manipulate her shadow without the need for spellcasting.

For a while, nothing happened. Even though the blood had successfully been taken in, Lamii was still nervous that something had gone wrong.  
“It’ll grow back” she reassured herself. It was but a tiny fraction of her soul, which over time would regenerate through accumulated energy, experience and memories.  
She felt a sharp pain in the center of her chest. Already immediately she knew that it wasn’t her heart, it hadn’t quite been in the right place. It had felt deeper. 

Then, she felt a pull. It was faint at first, but it grew stronger and stronger, until it felt like something was trying to tear her ribcage right out of her body. Lamii started panicking. She stepped backwards in shock, right into the table behind her, making it topple over into the podium with the book, which in turn also fell to the floor. She dropped the stone bowl, miraculously free of any bloodstains due to the magic involved, which shattered into several pieces across the floor.  
The pull was even stronger now, and even with her open eyes, Lamii could see a white, burning thread connecting the center of her chest, to the same spot on the shadow beneath her. A shadow that should be way longer than it was. Yet, it was the exact same length as if Lamii had been lying on the floor. From her own chest, to that of the shadow, the thread was wound tight, with white flames dancing across it length.  
She had made a mistake.

Despite the tiny soul flame having consumed the thread when transfering to the blood, she had forgotten to manually cut the connection. It hadn’t been visible, but the lingering bond had still existed, and now, that bond acted as a tether directly from her own soul to the shard imbued within her shadow. The pull became stronger still.  
She realized now that the pull she felt was not physical. She also realized that she was feeling incredibly tired.  
Lamii slumped to her knees, and the shadow mirrored her shape. Her head was a blur, but through the blur she still attempted to reach out, collecting whatever energy she had left, and forcefully cut the thread. The snap was resounding. It didn’t produce any actual sound, but the reverberating echoes of the released magic bounced around the room like an echo chamber. The connection was severed.

 

Lamii passed out.

 

When she finally awoke again, she was on her side on the floor of her secret study chamber. She felt as if her head had been torn in two. Sort of like the worst metaphysical hangover imaginable.  
She also felt... empty.  
Lamii sat herself up on the floor. She was surrounded by an impenetrable darkness. Mumbling a complaint so incoherent that even she didn’t quite catch what she said, Lamii flicked her wrist in attempt to light the torches, as she had done a hundred times before. Some of them lit, while others remained in significant lack of flame. She tried again, and a few more went ablaze this time. “Good enough...” she muttered.  
Her throat was dry. How long had she been out? She thought to herself.  
Shakingly, she stood herself up. Her legs were quivering and threatening to give out. Stumbling to the nearest table, she sat herself against the edge of it and looked around. The book lay closed on the floor, backside up. The glass pen was shattered, as was the bowl. The knife seemed fine.

Unconsciously, her left hand clutched her chest, almost clawing at it through her clothes. It felt as if something was missing. She quickly regained her composure and looked down her own body. Nothing seemed amiss. All her limbs was there, her clothes were untouched, despite maybe a bit dusty from her impromptu nap on the stone floor. It wasn’t until her eyes reached her bare bunny feet that she finally noticed it. She wasn’t casting a shadow.

It took her a few moments to absorb the situation and get her brain up to speed. She still felt sluggish, given everything that had happened.  
She raised her eyes raised and looked around the room. Everything was still slightly blurry to her, and it took a while for her eyes to be able to focus on anything.  
In the far corner, the one furthest away from her, the darkness seemed deeper than what would be natural for the room.  
Lamii staggered to her feet again and rubbed her eyes. Tentatively, she approached, and the closer she got, the more it felt like she was being watched. She took a few more steps, and she started to be able to make out a shape. Not daring to open her mouth, even holding her breath, she took several more steps towards the figure. She ended up standing mere feet away from it, and it was the strangest sensation the bunny had ever experienced. She felt like she was looking at herself. All that was in front of her was a vaguely humanoid shape of concentrated darkness, but she felt it as clearly as the weight on her own feet. She was looking at herself, somehow.

Tears started running down her face, and she finally inhaled, a sobbing gasp of breath. She had no idea why she started crying, but with the hollow, empty feeling inside of her, the shape in front of her felt almost welcoming and warm. She had an intense urge to touch it.  
Being the curious rabbit that she was, touch it is what she did. The shape was vaguely mirroring her action. Her hand connected with what she assumed was the shapeless equivalent of the being in front of her.

At the instant of touch, her entire body shuddered. Memories she had forgotten she had lost moment prior, came flooding back. In the same instant, the shape in front of her solidified to a mirror image of herself, resembling a Lamii shaped hole in space. Both entities seemed to connect in that moment, sharing all that they had lost at separation. Memories rebuilt for both beings, emotions were fulfilled and relearned to be felt, and most importantly, the feeling of emptiness disappeared.  
That was, until the touch ended. The memories and restored emotional capabilities remained, rebuilt from the bond, however at the lack of touch, the same empty feeling dug a jagged hole in the depth of her chest.  
The solidified mirror image turned hazy around the edges, when the connection broke. The shape best assumed to be its head tilted to the side, as if observing Lamii.  
In but a moment, the shadow shape morphed into an image Lamii had never before seen in her life. The colours of its fur was the opposite of her own. It was an effeminate shape, not quite male, not quite female, except for the lack of breasts. The being was expressionless, except for a pair of tall ears perked atop its head, that twitched at every sound.

In front of Lamii stood a dark grey, almost black furred rabbit, with a bone coloured face, and markings resembling a ribcage surrounding a glowing heart.  
Then, it spoke. “This is the best image I remember. From inside of you.”  
Its voice was soft, almost silky, as if whispered, but as audible as normal speech. It wasn’t distinct in any way, neither sounding masculine or feminine, but easily mistaken for either.  
“A blackness. A cage. A glowing, beautiful heart, full of life.”  
The words seemed to be chosen with deep care.

Then the most remarkably strange thing happened. It smiled. The eyes remained the same, they seemed tired, but the black rabbit smiled wearily at Lamii.  
For some reason, this made Lamii’s heart skip a beat, and all she could do was smile back through falling tears. She staggered forward, tripped, and promptly collapsed against the living shadow, which caught her as if her weight was that of a feather. Touch. Contact, and once more both beings felt fulfilled, whole, complete.  
Sobbing, Lamii was looking up at the being holding her. “Wh...What... No, who are you?”

The other bunny didn’t even open their mouth. Spoken as if directly to her mind, she heard the reply. “You. The half of you that you ripped out of yourself.”  
The rabbit didn’t exactly know how it knew this to be true, it was simply what it felt, and as Lamii heard those words, she too knew it to be true.  
Once more, she fought herself to stand up on her feet. At a loss for words, she took a step forward, and hugged the other rabbit. “It hurts... When we’re apart” Lamii sobbed. She felt more vulnerable than she ever had before.  
Arms embraced her for a brief moment, before the shape disappeared in front of her.  
In panic, Lamii’s head darted around, looking for them, until she realized that she didn’t feel empty again. “I’m here.” a voice rung in her head. She looked down, and rightly so, her shadow was back. “Most likely... We’ll never be one again. But, we still belong together. I won’t leave you.” The voice promised her.  
More tears, as Lamii sank to the floor in both relief and exhaustion. Aloud, into the empty room, she asked. “What’s your name?”  
“I don’t have one. I am you.”  
“Sjae” Lamii replied. “My soul, my Sjae.”

Sjae knew exactly the weight of this name, and they thanked her, with a warm thought that made Lamii imagine their smiling face.


End file.
